


My schedule for today lists a six-hour self-accusatory depression.

by barthelme



Series: Mors Certa, Vita Incerta [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Android, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, are we human or are we android
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-12 06:45:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15334155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barthelme/pseuds/barthelme
Summary: I'm caught up! This first part is basically the same, so no need to re-read if you read the previous version.Also, I just realized that I never gave credit for titles. "My schedule for today lists a six-hour self-accusatory depression," "The electric things have their lives, too," and "Mors Certa, Vita Incerta" (death is certain, life is uncertain), are fromDo Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?by Philip K. Dick, which you should just stop what you're doing to go read if you haven't had the chance yet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm caught up! This first part is basically the same, so no need to re-read if you read the previous version. 
> 
> Also, I just realized that I never gave credit for titles. "My schedule for today lists a six-hour self-accusatory depression," "The electric things have their lives, too," and "Mors Certa, Vita Incerta" (death is certain, life is uncertain), are from _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?_ by Philip K. Dick, which you should just stop what you're doing to go read if you haven't had the chance yet.

Armie takes Timmy on a date.

"A date?" Timmy says when Armie tells him to get dressed. He's in his boxers, leaning over the latest issue of Real Simple. They ran out of magazines once, and Armie came home from work to find Timmy staring blankly at a wall. Now, there are subscriptions to fifteen magazines arriving through the month. Timmy even has his own mail key and loves running downstairs every morning to check for mail. It took a while for him to consistently remember to put on clothes or at least a robe.

"Yeah," Armie says. "The movie starts in a half hour, so." He nods towards the bedroom. A smile spreads across Timmy's face and he just about knocks his stool over scrambling to the bedroom.

____

It's a romantic comedy about two adjunct professors trying to get the same professorship, so clearly they are enemies. Until it turns out that there is a third party involved who seems to have a better chance, thus they plot to get him out of the picture and, in the end, fall in love.

Armie wouldn't normally go to this kind of movie, but the theater is small and the only other two movies playing are a horror movie and a disaster flick. He assumes Timmy wouldn't be a fan. Timmy laughs at all the bad jokes, sighs when it's obvious they will end up together, and reaches for Armie's hand, gripping it when they kiss at the end.

_____

They take a walk through the park and Armie is really fucking happy.  
_____

Timmy doesn’t wake up. His chest rises and falls, arm thrown over his eyes like normal. But he doesn’t wake. Not when Armie makes coffee, not when he presses a kiss to his nose, not when he presses his cheek against Timmy’s concave belly.

Armie goes to work.

When he comes home, Timmy is watching TV. He’s wearing boxers and nothing else; he’s in the middle of an episode of _The Office_ and he doesn’t even chuckle when Kevin drops the chili.

“What’s wrong?” Armie asks. He sits next to Timmy, whose leg is shaking.

Timmy shrugs, licks his lips.

Armie leans against him; closes his eyes.

_____

When it got bad, Liz started yelling. It wasn’t that Armie was bad, more the situation was bad. They loved one another--Armie thinks they still do--but he always thought there might be something wrong with him.

He didn’t want kids. Or, he did (does), but didn’t know how he could care for a human while he usually forgot his wallet, lunch, phone, or some other item at home almost every morning. He didn’t know how to explain this to Liz, who would stew for weeks, months at a time, then explode.

Then, it became a daily fight. Armie could nod and shrug at the exact right moments without even really listening to her yell. After a few weeks, he started yelling back.

Eventually, they went silent. Armie moved out of the house and into his apartment. He lived like a bachelor for the first few weeks before realizing Liz was right. He did live like a child and it was disgusting.

He started cooking, doing laundry on a regular basis, and actually dusting the baseboards. He learned how to fix things instead of calling a repairman. He learned to problem solve.

_____

Timmy goes to bed early. Armie gets in bed beside him, runs his fingers through Timmy’s hair. Initially, Timmy tries to fumble for Armie’s waistband, but Armie can see the tiredness in his movements. “No, no. Sleep.”

Timmy doesn’t fight it, pressing his face into his pillow.

Armie pulls the manual from his bedside drawer. He reads it three times, but there doesn’t seem to be an answer other than a hard reset.

_To reset your Timmy 2.0 to his factor settings, hold the power button for ten seconds. Wait a minute. Press the button again to reactivate. This will erase all learned behaviors, unless the behavior is part of an expansion pack._

He sets the manual back in his drawer and eyes the button barely showing underneath Timmy’s hair. He presses his finger softly to it, and it must tickle, somehow, because Timmy giggles in his sleep, scoots back so his ass is pressed against Armie’s thigh.

Armie yanks his hand back. Goes to bed.

_____

He gets the idea at work. He’s taking his lunch break (a turkey sandwich with too much mayo. Timmy made it, but he doesn’t really understand flavors. He does understand that spreading mayo on bread is fun.) and researching android repair.

_DroidDaddy87: When I first started out, I got an old model on eBay that I wouldn’t get attached to you. Then, if I fucked it up, it wasn’t a big deal._

Armie hadn’t thought of that. He stops chewing, a bit of lettuce hanging out of the side of his mouth. His brain goes into overdrive. If Timmy 2.0 is just one of many Timmy 2.0’s, wouldn’t a different Timmy be, essentially, the same Timmy? His Timmy.

It takes a while to find the same model on eBay, but when he does, he doesn’t even bother bidding. He makes the full payment.

It feels slightly like cheating.

_____

That night, Timmy seems normal. He’s reading a magazine when Armie gets home and immediately breaks into a smile when the door opens. “Hi,” he says, setting the magazine aside, and Armie can tell he has something planned.

“Can we try something?” Timmy asks, but he’s already grabbing for Armie’s hand and leading him to the bedroom.

Armie shakes his head when he sees what Timmy has planned. There are ties (Armie’s work ties, specifically, which he’ll have to explain to Timmy not to use going forward) knotted to all four bedposts and Timmy is already unbuttoning his shirt.

All Armie can think about is the previous owner and how this was normal for Timmy. “No.”

Timmy freezes, cocks his head to the side. “You want me to keep my clothes on?”

Armie shakes his head and put his large hands on Timmy’s thin hips. “No, I don’t want you to do this.”

“I want to.”

“No, you think I want you to.”

Timmy stares at the ground between them. “No, I want to because I trust you. You won’t hurt me. You said you wouldn’t.” He presses forward and puts his head on Armie’s chest. “I know you won’t.”

It’s like ping-pong in Armie’s head. Eventually, he whispers, “Just your hands. I want your legs free. And you tell me to stop if you don’t like it.”

Timmy basically hops with excitement. “Can I call you--” he starts, sliding out of his clothes.

“Armie. You can call me Armie.”

He’s naked now, in the middle of the bed. He winks, “Whatever you want, Armie.”

Armie groans. He really needs to stop saying his name like that. And being a brat.

(That's not true. Armie likes his bratiness.)

_____

Armie forgets about the magazines and the mail and Timmy. He’s three miles away and has finally run off the last bits of his sleepiness when it hits him. He turns, almost running into a woman and her little girl, apologizing quickly.

He sprints all the way to the apartment and goes straight for the office. “Package. Do I have a package?”

The woman behind the desk stares at him. He must look insane. “Your,” she raises an eyebrow, “roommate just got the mail. And your package.”

Fuck.

When he gets to his apartment, he fumbles with the lock before realizing it’s unlocked. Inside, the package is tossed to the side, face down. He can clearly see the Timmy 2.0 logo on the side as well as an indent that looks like the box has been kicked.

Frantic, he searches for Timmy, but he isn’t hard to miss. Standing in the kitchen, fists clenching and unclenching, eyes red, lips plump. His chest is heaving and it feels like when things got bad with Liz, but much worse.

“Timmy, I.” But he doesn’t know how to explain. (You don’t have to explain, a voice says in the back of his head. He’s an android. Tell him he’s broken and you need a backup. Then fuck him on the floor.) “You weren’t supposed to--” he wipes the sweat from his forehead. (No, that’s not what I think. Shit. Shit.)

“You’re just like him.”

“I’m not,” Armie whispers, but Timmy is walking to the bedroom and slamming the door.

_____

Armie puts the box in the closet. He calls in sick to work. He’s not even faking it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short. If anyone knows anything about android repair, please let me know; I went to school for linguistics and writing so I have no idea how to fix anything.

Armie cleans the fridge. Takes everything out and scrubs the shelves. Throws out leftovers that were never even a thought after they made it to the fridge. Organizes condiments. 

He dusts his bookshelves and even the fucking baseboards. The toilet looks brand new and he organizes his junk drawer. Every hour or so, he presses his ear against the bedroom door. Thinks about knocking, but decides it's best to give Timmy space. 

The apartment has never been cleaner. 

Just before the sun fully sets, he goes outside and waters the garden. Pulls a few weeds. 

____

A bit before midnight, he knocks on the bedroom door. "Timmy, I'm going to come inside in like ten minutes, okay?" 

His answer is silence. He brushes his teeth and stares in the mirror. 

____

Armie knocks again before opening the door. He peeks his head in and immediately closes his eyes when he sees Timmy. 

Timmy, naked, kneeling at the end of the bed. His head bowed and his hands clasped behind his back. Eyes closed. 

"Timmy, no," Armie whispers. He approaches the end of the bed; when he moves to touch Timmy's shoulder, he notices the flinch and pulls back. "This isn't what I," he starts. Shifts his weight from left to right. Back to left. "Timmy."

Timmy looks up, grabs Armie's focus. "I'm sorry, Sir. What would you like instead?" For the first time since that initial night, Armie is very aware that Timmy is an android; his voice is flat. Empty. 

"I want to go to bed. I want to go to bed with you." 

"Yes, Sir."

Armie wants to tell him to stop saying that, but it doesn't matter.  
____

When Armie wakes, Timmy is gone. 

Liz used to do this when she was angry. She'd wake up early and start running errands, organizing closets, baking. The first few times, Armie asked if she needed help, but he realized quickly that what she needed was for him to shut the fuck up and stay away. 

He gets ready for work after making sure Timmy is settled into some project. He's putting magazines in chronological order. Stacking them on the kitchen counter. 

____

He should have called in sick. Most of the day is spent on different android forums, trying to find answers to Timmy's glitches. One person swears that doing a hard reset works; it took a few weeks for his Timmy to return to normal, but it was worth it. Another says she did the hard reset and her Timmy took on weird mannerisms that she couldn't program out of him. Slept late, became grouchy at the same time every day, only wanted to fuck in one position. 

He doesn't find a solid answer to the glitches, but he does end the day feeling slightly more normal. The way others talk about their androids--Timmy--is how they would talk about a human with feelings and nerve endings and emotions. Timmy has always seemed more human than android, but last night slapped him in the face. He sounded like a robot. "Sir," Armie whispers to himself. He sounded like a human trying to be a robot. 

He'd never seen coldness come from Timmy. Not even when Armie accidentally kicked over a spearmint plant. (Timmy had sighed, rolled his eyes. "They're hardy. It's okay. It's okay. Get a broom, please.") But, last night, he knew exactly what he was doing and how it would hurt Armie. 

(And he can't stop that nagging voice. "He's an android. Armie. Fuck him until he's begging you to stop, then fuck him even harder. Reset him, then forget the whole thing.")

____

The TV is on when Armie gets home. It's the episode where Michael declares bankruptcy. Timmy is sitting in the middle of the couch, eyes closed, breaths shallow. Armie thinks about resetting him, but instead kneels in front of Timmy, cups his face with his hands. Kisses his nose, his forehead, his chin. "I love you, I love you, I love," he murmurs. 

He carries Timmy to bed, tucks him in tight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't just leave Other Timmy in a closet to rot!

Timmy is gone (again) when Armie wakes. He must not have strayed far, because when Armie sits up, Timmy is in the bedroom doorway. 

"Are you feeling okay, Timmy?"

Timmy shrugs. "May I please go to my garden when you are at work?" He blinks. Shifts his weight slightly. Licks his lips. 

"Of course. You don't have to ask for--"

Timmy turns and walks towards the kitchen. "Thank you, Sir. Coffee is ready."

Armie didn't even know Timmy could make coffee. He follows Timmy to the kitchen and finds that Timmy has made toast, slathered it in peanut butter and a dusting of sugar, sliced in half on a small plate. Black coffee sits next to it. The newspaper is opened to the sports section. 

"I can make eggs or pancakes, if you'd like." Timmy looks out of place. He's wearing sweatpants that hang low on his waist and a wifebeater. The neck is stretched out, a result of Timmy's habit of twisting his fingers in the fabric. By all accounts, he looks normal, but his stance is hunched, fingers antsy. 

"You don't need to do anything for me," Armie says, but he sits. Takes a bite of toast. "I appreciate it, but you're not my--"

(You're not my what? Slave? Well, actually, he basically is, you fucking idiot.)

Armie swallows. Takes a sip of coffee. Another bite of toast. "You don't have to do anything for me."

"So, this is all you need for right now? I need to go switch the laundry. I will be back shortly, Sir." He starts to walk away, but then pauses. Turns. Presses a chaste kiss to Armie's cheek. 

Then he's walking out of the apartment and Armie is chewing the same bite of toast until the texture is so disgusting he can barely swallow it. 

_____

 

Armie knows his boss has a few androids. He's a weird guy. Collects those flimsy coasters you get at restaurants and has a cat named Georgie that lives at the office. Georgie hates Armie, but that's okay because Armie hates cats. 

(Maybe, he thinks, I should get a dog. It would give Timmy something to take care of during the day and when growing season is over. Maybe a houseplant, first.)

Armie avoids talking to his boss most days, but today he corners him in the copy room. Feigns interest in his trip to Iowa (who the fuck takes a two week vacation in Iowa?) and even pets the stupid cat. 

Armie leaves the copy room with the number of a friend of a friend of a friend who works on "retro" androids.

_____

Armie doesn't even wait for his break to call. 

"Timmy 2.0, huh? Yeah, I've worked on those before. Is it the memories? That's pretty easy to deal with. Customer service will try to get you to take a credit, get a new 'droid, but that's them being greedy." 

"No. Well, I mean, yeah, but I don't want to change who he is, so I don't care about that. He keeps shutting off. Or twitching."

"Yeah, yeah. I saw one that was doing that. Listen, can you bring him in next week? Thursday, maybe? I'll text you the address."

Armie agrees without asking about the cost. 

_____

On the way home, Armie gets a text from Liz. 

_can i take you out for coffee this weekend? as friends. i feel like things should have ended on a better note._

Armie smiles. _That sounds nice. Tomorrow?_

_tmrw, 10AM at that place on your corner. thanks, armie._

_____

For the first time since Timmy became a part of Armie's life, Armie is dreading going home. Not because of the tension or "sir" or this dry, lifeless persona Timmy has adopted. No, because how do you nicely say, "I'm taking you to a mechanic so you can get better and make my life okay."

_____

Timmy isn't in the garden, but he definitely had been. Armie can see imprints from his knees around the base of plants. 

The apartment is quiet. For a moment, Armie panics that Timmy ran off. It's not common (security measures, of course) for an android run away, but it does happen. Then, he sees the box and he freezes. Swears. 

In typical Timmy style, he's opened the Timmy 2.0 box, removed the contents, and left the garbage wherever it landed. 

"Timmy," Armie calls out. Silence. Timmy's gardening gloves are on the kitchen counter. A magazine is face down on the coffee table. "Timmy, we need to talk."

The bedroom door is slightly ajar; Armie pushes it open and finds Timmy. Naked, sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread, arms holding him up as he leans back. Head cocked to the side, eyes waiting for Armie to look at him. 

Between his legs is the other Timmy, and Armie knows what he's doing, can almost feel Timmy's cock on his own tongue. 

"Welcome home, Daddy," Timmy says, and Armie can see the fear in his eyes. He wonders if Timmy understands that feeling.

Other Timmy pulls away, looks backwards at Armie. Swollen lips, messy hair. He looks like Timmy, but he also very much doesn't look like Timmy. "Hi." The grin is different. 

Armie is shaking. He can't tell if it's fear, rage, sadness, or a combination of everything, but he's grabbing Timmy's bicep and yanking him to his feet. "We don't do this. Put your clothes on and wait for me in the living room." Immediately, he regrets his grip on Timmy's arm. Drops his hand, watches as Timmy picks up his clothes. Walks out of the room. 

Other Timmy looks up at Armie. Palms his cock. "He was right. You look like you could break me. Want you to--"

"Please don't talk," Armie says. He reaches down, presses the button behind his ear. It's the longest ten seconds. 

____

Timmy sits in the armchair. 

Armie doesn't know if he's ever sat in the armchair. His mother was redecorating her living room and brought it over not long after he moved into the apartment. She said it made the living room look more inviting. He thought it looked like a good place to put a hamper when he folds laundry. 

"That," Armie gestures at the bedroom. "Is not okay."

Timmy doesn't look up. He's leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, hair in his face. 

"We do not treat anyone like that. We do not use people."

Timmy snorts. "He's an android."

Armie paces. Momentarily wonders if Timmy realizes he is also an android. Fears that Timmy is well aware of that and used Other Timmy like he feels he's being used. 

"We don't do that, okay?" He sits on the couch. "I will find a new home for," Armie shakes his head. Wishes Timmy would look up. "Him. I will find a nice home for him. But you are not to touch him anymore. He stays in the closet." He waits a moment. Adds, "He was never going to replace you. Nothing can replace you, okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

(Briefly, so briefly it shouldn't even matter, Armie thinks about Timmy and Other Timmy. Hipbones, curls, smiles that are too big for their faces. Fuck.)

"Now, do you feel okay?" He doesn't know where this conversation is going, but he knows where it has to end. 

Timmy shrugs. 

"I asked you a question."

At that, Timmy looks up. Bites his lip. "I feel okay now. 

"You've been," there isn't a better way to say it. "Shutting down. Off. Twitching. Do you know this?"

Timmy nods. Their eyes lock for a moment and then Timmy looks away. 

"I've made an appointment with someone who might be able to help."

The silence that fills the apartment is different than the silence when Armie came home. Timmy tucks his hair behind his ears. Bounces his legs up and down. "My chest feels funny. Like it's moving too much."

(He's scared, Armie thinks. He's fucking terrified and he doesn't know how to process this. He knows so many things, but not how to be scared.)

"Do you want to sit with me?"

Timmy nods, pushes away from the chair, and is in Armie's lap. Armie tries to swallow Timmy with his arms. Rests his chin on top of Timmy's head. Asks, "Can you stop calling me 'Sir' now? You've made your point."

Timmy laughs. "Yeah, okay." Presses his cheek against Armie's chest. "Anything for Daddy."

"You're such a little shit," Armie whispers, massaging Timmy's spine with his thumb.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically just fluff to get me through the next chapter where everything is bad. Also, Liz is important, I've decided.

Armie gives in. 

"Choke me," Timmy whispers. He's riding Armie, stroking his cock. Hair pushed back by one of the elastic headbands Armie bought so he could see Timmy's eyes more often. "Please, choke me, Armie."

Armie wishes he'd hesitated, but his hand it almost immediately at Timmy's neck, thumb pressing hard against his vocal cord. Pushing, pushing, pulling Timmy down to kiss him. "You like that?"

Timmy freezes for a moment. Nods frantically. "Yes, yes," he manages to croak out. Armie starts to fuck up into him, harder, harder. Tightens his grip on Timmy's neck. 

Armie licks his lips and swallows the lump in his throat. "Like it when I choke you, Boy?"

That does it and Timmy is shaking as he comes. 

_____

Afterwards, Timmy says, "I'm sorry I was so mad at you."

Armie rolls on his side. Props his head on his fist. "Don't ever apologize for being mad at me. Don't ever apologize for your emotions."

Timmy nods.

_____

They fuck again in the morning. Armie wakes up early, preps himself, then slides back into bed with Timmy. He waits. Waits until Timmy's eyes blink open, until he stretches his arms, smiles at Armie. "Finally," Armie says, turning his back to Timmy. Pushing against him, reaching back for his cock and guiding him inside.

_____

Coffee with Liz is _coffee with Liz._ Armie wonders if they were never meant to be married. 

"Tell me about Timmy." She orders a latte; Armie orders a shot in the dark. The barista remembers how to make it. Adds the extra shot. 

Armie grins. "He likes to garden. And read magazines. Loves _The Office_. Hates Jim."

Liz snorts. "As he should. Jim is an idiot."

"He's--" he fumbles for a word. "Sassy. Mouthy. Kind." He takes a sip of his drink. "He's really funny."

It's embarrassing talking about an android this way, but Liz smiles, reaches across the table to run her thumb across Armie's knuckles. "You seem happy." 

"I'm really, really fucking happy." 

Liz nods. Sips her own drink. "I just. I feel bad about how--"

Armie waves a hand at her. "No. No. What we had was." Shrugs. "What we had was good. Let's just," he rubs his palms on his knees. "Let's just be done with the past, okay?"

It's easy to slip back into their first date conversations, especially when the idea of romance is off the table. Liz is just as witty as ever and Armie wants the best, the best, the best for her. 

When they leave, Armie hugs her. Smells her hair. Kisses her cheek. "Tell Timmy I say hello. I hope he doesn't hate me too much."

There are promises of lunch dates. Dinner parties.

_____

Timmy is tense when Armie gets home. 

"What if he can't help me?" Timmy asks. His knee is bouncing. He wraps a curl around his finger. Tighter, tighter. 

Armie kisses his temple. "Then we find someone else who can help."

_____

Wednesday, Timmy is especially horny. It starts in the morning when Armie is trying to shave. Timmy leans, naked, against the doorframe. Trails a hand down his abdomen, fingers his pubes, his cock. "Don't you have some vacation days?"

Armie puffs his cheek out; shaves a clean line. "I do, but I'm pretty sure they aren't supposed to be used to fuck you."

"Oh, well, I could fuck you if there's a technicality."

"Enticing."

Timmy is there, suddenly, arms wrapped around Armie's waist. Lips pressed against his shoulder blade. "Could fuck you right here on the floor, Armie. Can your old knees take it?"

Armie is quick. Twisting and grabbing Timmy's wrists, pinning him against the wall. "I can take whatever you want to give," he says. Lightly pats Timmy's cheek. "Whatever you want." 

Timmy's Adam's apple bulges. Gulps. "I want."

"What? What do you want?"

"I want you to use me."

____

Armie makes it to work on time, but barely. He'd dropped Timmy's hands, kissed him. Sucked on his neck, his chest, his fingers. "I don't want to hurt you," he whispered and Timmy hissed, "I want you to."

He stares at his computer. Makes some calls. Avoids his boss. 

Really, he just thinks about what Timmy is doing. Tomorrow. He thinks about tomorrow a lot. 

Puts an ad up for a perfectly good android that needs a nice home.

_____

The apartment is quiet when Armie gets home. He drops his bag by the door. Kicks his shoes off. He doesn't bother with calling out for him, just walks to the bedroom and finds Timmy in the middle of the bed. Left arm holding a leg up while his right hand fingers himself. "Couldn't wait, Armie." And he really, really needs to stop saying his name that way. 

Armie slams the door shut, wipes his mouth. "You realize I'm going to have to punish you."

Timmy grins. Nods.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I lied! This chapter isn't going to be doomsday. There's one more chapter after this. I am taking requests for glimpses into everyday life with Timmy 2.0 because I am emotionally invested in his garden. Take that how you will.

Timmy doesn't have to be told. He slinks off the bed, brushes by Armie. Presses his palms against the door, spreads his legs. Bends slightly at the waist. "Do you want me to count, Sir?"

Armie runs his knuckles along Timmy's spine, down his hip. He hopes Timmy can't feel the tremor in his fingers. "Do you," Armie whispers, "have a safeword?" His thumb presses hard against Timmy's hipbone. 

"I've never," Timmy starts. Runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth. Armie can almost see his thought process. He's not sure if it's an android thing or a Timmy thing, but Timmy reworks sentences constantly, starting and stopping. Perfecting. Sometimes, he'll come back with a good one liner an hour after said one-liner would have fit into a conversation. Armie thought it was a glitch at first, but the way Timmy smiles when he does it? No, not a glitch at all. "No one's ever. You know. Shoot." Timmy cracks his neck. "No one has ever given me a safe word."

Armie wraps his arm around Timmy's waist, pulling him back against his chest. He likes the feeling of being clothed, holding Timmy's naked body. He hugs him, kisses his neck. Timmy, slightly off balance because of his stance, reaches over his shoulder, and presses his hand against Armie's cheek. Anything to calm the rage in the pit of his stomach. Anything to erase the image of Timmy used, scared, and unable to find a way out. "Well, you need a safe word and you need to promise me you will use it."

Timmy's body relaxes. He lets Armie hold him up. "I don't think I'll need to use it."

"I said," Armie nips at his neck. His ear. Tugs the lobe just hard enough for Timmy to whimper. "You need to promise me you will use it if you need to."

"Yeah, okay, I promise. Basil. Let's use basil." 

"You need to pick something that you might not say during sex," Armie chuckles. 

Timmy tenses and Armie holds him tighter, knowing what his reaction will be. "You knocked over my basil plant, Armie. Basil is very fickle." It was the last time they tried anything sexual on the balcony, Timmy's rules. 

"We'll use basil. And, Timmy," he's glad Timmy is staring at the baseboard because he can feel the blush on his cheeks, "I've never done this, so I'm going to need your help a bit, okay?"

"I know, I know," Timmy nods frantically. 

"Good." Armie tentatively lets go of Timmy, making sure he has steady footing before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He watches Timmy get back in position, enjoys the view for a moment. "Come here; I want you over my knee." 

Timmy straightens, pauses before turning around. His shoulders rise and fall with his steady breaths and Armie worries for a moment that he's trying to word the sentiment, "I don't want to do this anymore." But, he turns around and his cock is still hard. He's smirking. "Should I count," he slides easily over Armie's lap, lets his hands balance himself on the ground. Spreads his legs just slightly and Armie knows it's on purpose, knows that Timmy is trying to be a little brat. "Sir?"

Armie doesn't answer him, quickly slaps his left cheek. "No, but you can shut the fuck up. That's one." 

_____

Sex was never easy for Armie. It was his desires, his upbringing, his height. God, his height. Armie had a girlfriend (before Liz, before he had to look at porn on incognito tabs for fear of someone figuring out what he really liked), who said, "You're so. Big. Like, you strip away most people's clothes, mess their hair up, and they look smaller. You just look, you know, big."

With Liz, it was easy because she was simple. Sex with Liz was part of a relationship; not a duty, but definitely by the textbook. It was good--really good, sometimes--but there was no need to try anything new. Armie never broached the subject. 

("Hey, Liz, I'd really like it if you tie me up, smack me around. Call me a slut. I'd like to do the same to you sometimes. We good?")

Sometimes, Armie wonders if Liz had similar, unspoken conversations. 

_____

Timmy's lips are red from biting them. Holding back words (and Armie knows how hard that is for Timmy. At one point, whispered, "You're doing so good, Timmy." Timmy had nodded, blinked. Bit his bottom lip.) His eyes are lidded and his hands are digging into the backs of his knees. Pulling them to his chest, leaving room for Armie to slot between them. Fuck into him, each thrust inching them further up the bed. 

"Do you want to come?" Armie asks. 

"Yes, yes, please."

Without thinking, Armie pushes his weight to his left arm, slap Timmy's cheek. Freezes. The sting on his palm echoes in his gut. 

Timmy's lips purse together and Armie is willing time to rewind, can see "Basil, Basil, Basil," on Timmy's face. 

The "B" switches to a "P" and Timmy is gasping, "Please, I'm sorry. Please." 

Timmy winks and Armie sighs. Cups Timmy's chin, his long fingers digging into his cheek. "I didn't say you could talk. Do we need to stop so I can spank you again?"

Timmy tries to shake his head, but Armie's grip is too tight. 

"You'll come when I want you to," Armie swallows, "Boy."

He watches as Timmy's eyes roll back in his head, then starts fucking him again. It doesn't take much longer for him to come inside Timmy, thrusts quick and short, hand gripping Timmy's face tighter and tighter. 

Armie almost feels bad; Timmy's cock looks like it hurts. He's been leaking since Armie spanked him, but he's been good. Other than speaking out of turn a few times, he's been good. Considering it's Timmy, he was expecting more snark. He was expecting Timmy to try to get a rise out of him. 

He pulls out and Timmy doesn't move. Keeps his legs spread, pulled to his chest. 

Armie releases his jaw, sits back on his haunches. "I should just leave you like this. Go about my night, come back and fuck you later. Would you like that?"

Timmy nods. 

"Or, should I finger you and let you come? Let you touch yourself? Do you think you've been good enough? You can speak."

"Please let me come, Sir. I will be better next time. Please, I'll do whatever you want."

Armie sighs and presses his thumb against Timmy's hole. Rolls his eyes. "You're so needy." 

There have been a lot of things Armie wanted to do but chickened out. Next time, he keeps telling himself. We'll try that next time. There will be a next time. 

But he can't help himself now. "Such a needy slut," he pushes his thumb in, fucks him easily. Before he can change his mind, he spits at Timmy's face. "Touch yourself."

Timmy scrambles, drops his legs and wraps a hand around his cock, cups his balls. Rocks down on Armie's thumb until he's coming. He sounds like he's about to cry, and Armie adds another finger. 

_____

Afterwards, Armie cleans Timmy off. They crawl under the covers and Timmy is pliant. Lets Armie fold around him. "Was the spitting too much?"

"No, that was," Timmy kisses his shoulder. "That was so good."

Armie relaxes. "Okay."

They aren't going to nap. The garden needs to be weeded and Armie needs to eat. 

"The slap, though. That was a bit hard. You forget that you're an ogre, I think."

"You didn't like it?"

"No, I liked it, but maybe tone it back next time."

Armie nods into Timmy's curls. Next time. 

____

They weed. Armie eats. Timmy reads on the balcony. Before bed, Armie reminds Timmy that they will be going to see someone to help him the next day. He holds Timmy until he falls asleep, which comes faster than Armie had expected. Timmy's body feels lax ever since Armie told him to shut the fuck up. He can't wait until Timmy does the same thing to him. 

Sleep doesn't come for Armie. He gets up, has a drink. And another. Watches _The Office_ until Comedy Central switches to _South Park._ Turns the TV off and sits in silence. Has another drink. It's three in the morning when he goes back to the bedroom; he wants their meeting to be here, but he also wants it to never come. 

He watches Timmy sleep. It could be the whiskey, it could be the tiredness, but he sees Timmy stop breathing a few times. His head twitch in his sleep. 

"If not now," he whispers before ducking under the covers, wrapping his lips around Timmy's soft cock. Sucking him to hardness, awake. 

Timmy's hand toys with Armie's ear. Whispers, "You have some nerve calling me a slut."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind words! I will likely post snippets about them making salsa and going to farmer's markets.

Thursday comes and Armie calls Liz. 

Timmy is still asleep. He rolled over, hugged Armie's pillow when he left the bed. 

"We're going to some guy," Armie says. He's on the balcony. The basil looks good; everything looks good. Timmy is an excellent gardener. "Says he can help us."

"Well, that's good," Liz says. "What if he can't?"

"I don't know."

There's a pause. "I'm here, you know. I'm here to talk."

"Yeah." Armie plucks a mint leaf. Brings it to his lips. "I just don't really know what I'll do. I feel bad telling you this because we had, you know."

"We did. But. You have this now."

Armie bites the tip of the leaf. Swallows. "I do. And I really love him."

He thinks about the other Timmy that he gave to a lonely, middle aged woman who seemed really nice. Kind. 

"I can't imagine being without him."

"Don't think about that," Liz says. "Think about how good it will be when you don't have to worry. When he's fixed."

Armie doesn't want to have that much hope. Doesn't want to set himself up for failure. 

____

Timmy wears one of Armie sweatshirts. His normal jeans. "Okay," he says. Wipes his palms on his pants. 

"You ready?" Armie asks. He puts his checkbook in his pocket. 

"Yeah."

"Alright." Timmy tugs on the sleeve of the hoodie. Armie wraps an arm around him. Kisses his temple. "We'll be back in time to garden, okay? We can probably go on a walk, too."

"Okay."

_____

The address is within walking distance. They hold hands. When they get to the apartment, it isn't really what Armie was expecting. There's no buzzer and it looks like a commercial building. He texts, "we're here." and there is a click at the door. He pulls it open. "It's on the second floor," he says. 

When he knocks, Timmy grips his palm. The sweat is slick between their palms. 

_____

It takes about a second for Armie to realize this is not good. To realize this guy has a history with Timmy. Timmy drops his head. Clasps his palms behind his back. Bows his head. "Hey," Armie says, putting his hand on the small of Timmy's back. "It's okay, alright? I'm here."

"No," Timmy says. 

"Timmy," the man says. He's clearly in his 50s, 60s? Fit, grey, with eyes that makes Armie uncomfortable. He stands up straight, using his height for good use. "Well, this isn't what I was expecting."

Timmy looks up at Armie, bites his lip. 

Armie puts it together. Takes it apart. "You're," he gestures at the man. Massages Timmy's neck. 

"You are one lucky guy," the man says. "Timmy here is," he reaches up and cups Timmy's jaw. Armie pulls his arm across Timmy's shoulders. Draws him closer. "He's exquisite. This face."

Everything hurts. Armie pictures Timmy scared, worried. Unable to say "no." Unable to have "Basil" be an option. Armie knows this is Timmy's previous owner. Is that what he is? An owner? 

"Can you help us?" Armie asks. He wants to say so many things. He wants to hurt this man. 

The man nods. "Yeah. See, when they refurbish them, they reset any changes we've made to improve them. I bet you don't know much about android upgrades?" The man leans back against his kitchen counter. Eyes scan up and down Timmy's body. "I definitely upgraded Timmy here, but they must have reset him." He steps closer. "Can I," he asks, reaching a hand out like he wants to touch Timmy's waist. 

"No, you fucking can't," Armie says, pulling Timmy close to him. 

The man raises his hands in defeat. "Sorry. I thought you wanted me to help you."

Armie wants to leave, but the idea of waking up without Timmy keeps him grounded. He presses his lips to Timmy's temple. Whispers, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Timmy says. 

The man laughs. "Timmy was always so quick to please. Have you used him for dinner parties yet? He's quite the crowd pleaser." 

"I don't use him. How much to help us?" Armie asks, disregarding his question. 

"Six hundred. Cash."

"I have a check."

"Cash." 

"I have a check." He can feel Timmy tense. 

The man reaches out, lightly slaps Timmy's cheek. "You go get cash, I'll tune him up, and he'll be ready to go when you get back."

Armie doesn't speak. He waits for Timmy to look up at him. He blinks. Smiles. "It's okay. I'll be okay."

When Armie walks out of the apartment, he feels sick.

____

It can't be more than a half hour. Armie runs to the closest ATM, withdraws the money. Races back. When he gets back, Timmy is asleep on the couch. The man is smoking in the kitchen. "You're really lucky," the man says. "They improved on the functionality of Timmy, but this one here," he points at Timmy, "is special. He's really fucking special."

"Can you just," Armie presses his thumb against the bridge of his nose. "Like, really. Just stop. Thank you, for whatever," he says, knowing somehow that this man did know how to help, "But just. Stop. Please." 

"I'm serious about the dinner parties. You want a good way to network? This kid here," the man starts. 

Armie slaps the money on the counter. "No."

He scoops Timmy up in his arms. It's going to be a long walk home. 

____

Timmy doesn't wake up. Armie sits at his bedside until Friday. Thinks about leaving him there with that man, even for a half hour. About the things that Timmy felt, even if most of it was erased. What remained. He calls in to his boss. Tells him he needs the next week off.  
____

Timmy doesn't wake until Saturday. When he does, he stumbles into the living room. Asks, "Did you water the base of the plants? You always just spray everything and that's how you get--"

Armie grins. Turns off the TV. "Scorched leaves. I know."

"Seriously, I don't trust you with any of my plants. You're just--"

Armie silences him with a kiss. Threads his fingers through his curls. Kisses his cheek, his nose, his lips. 

"You're just an idiot when it comes to plants," Timmy says. He rests his head against Armie's shoulder. 

____

Timmy falls asleep early. Armie knows they have to talk at some point. But right now, he just watches him sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol, you all thought i could kill timmy 2.0. i'm not a fucking monster, okay?


End file.
